Choice
by StarWarrior72
Summary: Choice is a double edged blade, and wielded incorrectly, the results can be as disastrous as a badly-used lightsaber. However, unlike a lightsaber, we all must manage choice in our daily lives. And Luke has learned the hard way that the results can be even more painful. ONESHOT. Slightly AU in that Han was saved at Bespin as opposed to on Tatooine.


On that day, Luke awoke bright and early. His first waking thought was, _It's my birthday,_ and the second, _please don't let anyone remember._ Once these thoughts had run through his mind, he lay still, staring at the wall. Neither of them had come anywhere close to cheerful, and he wished he could go back to sleep, and hopefully get a better start on the morning later. As he stared at the wall, however, his vision didn't swim or double, he found his eyes following one of many seams in the metal, and he knew that he was wide awake, and there was nothing he could do about it.

He quickly flipped the blankets back off himself, and sat up. He had hoped somewhat that he would be injured in battle, and he could spend this day in a bacta tank, or otherwise sedated, but even his most harebrained, self-risking scheme hadn't failed. He supposed he should have been glad, considering how many rebels he had managed to save, but he couldn't bring himself to be. After all, Leia and Han had never missed his birthday once in the time he'd been with the Alliance, and he was sure that they would remember today with all the same certainty. They would come to his room, bringing gifts, and wanting to celebrate his existence, when Luke knew that no one should. Not considering who his father was.

_There's nothing you can do about it_, he told himself harshly, though he was uncertain if he was saying that because of his relationship to Vader, or because he knew his friends would be coming._ You never asked for any of this._ But he knew that wasn't true. The first three years, celebrating their birthdays had been one of the things he'd enjoyed most. The day of his birth, and the anniversaries of his friends' came very close together, Leia's a scarce two days after him, and Han's a week after hers. Not one of the three were completely certain of their birth dates, of course, as he and Leia had both been adopted without much of the usual paperwork, and Han's family had simply not remembered, or chosen not to tell him, but each had chosen a day to celebrate, and they always did so together.

Luke sighed, and stood up, glancing out the viewport. For once, he had not woken in the middle of a disaster, a war zone. He looked around his room. It was small, and sparse, but he usually didn't spend much time here. Maybe today would be a good day to change that. He hurried to the 'fresher, counting on the fact that few of the others would have woken yet, and managed to make it back to his room without meeting anyone. He then closed and locked his door, and sat back down on his bed.

He sat there, staring at the opposite wall for a moment. He didn't have much to do. His bedroom was simply that, a room with a bed in it, and he had never chosen to spend an entire day here of his own free will. Sure, there was the odd time that he had been wounded, but bandaged up, and shipped back to his own space because the hospital was too full, but on those occasions, Han and Leia could always be counted on to visit, and bring their own brand of entertainment with them.

He shuffled back on his bed, trying to make himself comfortable against the metal wall, and used the Force to summon a book to his hand. He turned it on, and started trying to read, but his attention kept being pulled away by insignificant distractions, a bug flying around the light, a small meteor being vaporized by the ship's shields, the tapping of boots out in the hall. He curled up, and pulled the blanket over himself, trying to block it out. He knew his book was a fairly good one, and one that would usually have consumed his conscious mind by now, but he had been skimming the same page for the last twenty minutes, and was finally forced to admit that it wasn't going to be his relief from reality today. He replaced the book on his shelf and sat on his bed in silence.

He had, of course, considered telling his friends the truth about his parentage. In a way, he wanted to very badly. He had never kept a secret from them before, and that only added to the feeling of uncleanness that the knowledge gave him. He had been gifted with two of the best friends in the galaxy, but he was ignoring them. He'd lied to them, and he couldn't see an end to the deception.

He had toyed several times with the idea of going to one of Han's drinking parties, pretending to get drunk out of his mind and blurt it out, but the idea had never succeeded in getting past his imagination. After all, he had been to one of those parties all of once, and it had been enough to make him vow to never drink alcohol, return to another, or accept without question that something Han found amusing would be fun for him too.

He had never been able to think of a way to tell Leia, though. Telling Han would be simple enough, and he believed that his friend would give him another chance to prove his worth, but telling Leia would be impossible. She hated Vader more than the rest of the galaxy put together, and she had never been one to forgive and forget. She would abandon him, and he knew he couldn't deal with that. He wanted to believe that she would stay with him, but he knew better. If she ever found out, he would become one more facet of Vader's possession, something more to be hated and avoided.

Luke sighed, and curled up in a ball, putting his head on his knees. A galaxy without Leia would mean a galaxy without Han, because inevitably, wherever Leia was, Han would eventually follow. And a galaxy without his friends would mean living alone, with only the knowledge of Vader's kinship for company, which sounded like an end to all happiness. All happiness was already being seeped from his life, and he couldn't bear the thought of losing any more.

He supposed he should really leave his room and face the day, but he couldn't bear the thought. He knew that letting his friends continue to celebrate his birthday with him wouldn't be adding much to his lie, but the thought that they were celebrating a major event in Vader's life as well made him feel nauseous. It was better that he hid this from them, and maybe one day, in the distant future, Leia would have learned to forgive and forget, and he could tell her. Until that day, however, Luke vowed to hide the truth of his father.

He knew that he'd been acting conspicuously when it came to Vader and Anakin recently. While he had once unashamedly and vocally worshiped Anakin, he had found himself unable to speak his name since Vader had changed his reality, and although he had once been happy to join in on verbally abusing Vader, he now turned away from it, feeling awful about saying such things about his father.

Luke forced himself to uncurl, and stood up, grabbing the doorframe and starting to do pull-ups to distract himself. Although the exercise made his arms burn and ache in a familiar way, it did nothing to distract his thoughts.

Because he knew, deep down, that he still loved his father.

He wanted to know Vader. He knew that Vader _had_ once been Anakin, a Jedi Luke could have been proud of. He wanted to know first-hand what it would be like to have a parent. He wanted to be hugged, and cared for, and loved by his father. He wanted to comfort Vader, to take away the pain he could now sense constantly from the older man, and to see if it could truly be impossible to turn him back to the light. Above all else, he didn't want to be alone.

He dropped from the door frame and walked back to the view port, looking out at space, wondering where his father was. Vader was waiting for him, he knew, and somewhere, far across the galaxy, his father was watching for him. Was, probably, watching out for him, considering how far blaster bolts had landed from his body. In the previous years, there had always been shots that were far too close for comfort, but now they strayed far from him, and he rarely sensed any personal danger when imperials approached.

So he used himself as a human shield. He threw himself in front of his friends when the imperials were taking aim, forcing them to shoot elsewhere. He had flown more recklessly than usual, managing to take down an entire Star Destroyer alone this week. He'd been sent on missions to look for new bases, and had run into no trouble at all. He'd even gone to the Imperial Center, and taken out a military academy. It was a wonder no one had noticed his newfound invulnerability yet.

Of course, half of the Alliance seemed convinced he was some kind of god-like fully-trained Jedi, when in fact, they knew more about the Jedi than he did. Sure, he could flick one hand and bring a book tablet across a room with little to no thought to it, but he was galaxies away from ever understanding all the complexity of what Ben had been able to do. Being brutally honest with himself, he had to admit that he didn't even know what all the skills of a Jedi would be.

Yoda was waiting for Luke to return, far away on Dagobah. But Luke didn't want to return to him. Yoda hadn't told him the truth about his father, going so far as to call Anakin a great Jedi, while completely failing to give Luke any kind of encouragement about his own skills. For now, at least, Luke needed to stay home, and try to accept his father, and be affirmed for his actions. After all, even Vader had had kind things to say about Luke's efforts. No, it was the Jedi who were painfully unwilling to tell him he'd done a good job, no matter how hard he worked for them.

A knock at the door pulled him from his thoughts, and he turned, "Hello?"

"Hey, Kid, come on out, Leia and I are taking you for breakfast."

"Where?" Luke asked, stalling desperately, unsure how to tell his friend of his plan to remain in his room all day without Han deciding that that only meant that Han and Leia would come into his space for their party. "Maybe you haven't noticed, but we're kind of wanted for treason."

From the other side of the door, he heard Han's laughter, "Oh, you've got me, how could I possibly forget?"

"No need to be rude," Luke told the door.

"Kid, you don't sound too good. Let me in," Han said, and Luke heard the slap that was Han's hand against the activation of the door. The door remained resolutely closed, and Luke allowed himself a breath of relief.

"Kid?" Han's voice said again, "Let me in."

"No," Luke said, realizing that the best course of action was to be as honest as possible, "I'm staying in here, and you're staying out there. I don't want to celebrate my birthday, and I don't want you to either."

"And why is that?" Han asked. It sounded to Luke as though his friend was stalling as well, but he couldn't think why.

"My birth isn't something to celebrate," Luke answered. He wanted to just tell Han everything. There was so much to tell, so much he was hiding, and he hated it.

"Why'd you say that?" Han asked.

Luke turned away and looked out the viewport again, "I don't want to talk about it, but my father isn't who Ben told me he was."

There was a sudden whoosh as Luke's door opened, and Han stepped in. Luke saw, for just a moment before the door closed again, that Han had taken apart the door's opening matrix and overridden the door lock. His smuggler friend looked very concerned, and at the expression on Luke's face, the expression Luke had only bothered to disguise in his voice, his concern grew, "What do you mean?"

"I mean that I want to be alone," Luke answered, "I don't want to talk about it, I don't want to come out of my room, and I especially don't want to celebrate my birthday."

Han had never really been one for taking hints, no matter how overt, and now was no exception. He came to Luke and gently guided him to sit back down on his bed before sitting next to him. Luke couldn't keep himself from his natural reaction of leaning against his friend, and as Han forwent his usual rough exterior and put his arms around Luke, he wanted more than ever to tell Han everything. But he bit his lip instead, and simply cried. Han treated him with all the usual concerned, but confused, gentleness.

When Luke's tears had run dry, Han propped him upright, and pulled out a filthy handkerchief, which looked as though it had been used as a drop cloth or shop rag more than a tissue, and handed it to Luke, who sniffled, and wiped his eyes on his sleeve instead. Han frowned at the rag, and tossed it into the garbage disposal. The action brought a watery smile to Luke's face. Han would never change. Not even as he insisted that Luke and Leia were making him soft. Luke hugged his friend tightly before sitting up again.

"Come on, Junior, tell Uncle Han why you were moping up here all alone," Han said in his usual somewhat-stilted tones he used when comforting Luke.

Stung by Han's choice of words, Luke protested, "I wasn't moping!"

"Sure you weren't. You were just hiding out in your room, refusing to talk to anybody, and hiding that many tears."

Luke frowned, and then sighed, and turned his head away, "I don't want to talk about it."

Han roughly turned Luke's head to himself, "You need to, though."

Luke sniffed again.

"Want a few more minutes? I'll go tell Leia we're going to lunch instead, and I'll bring you some breakfast."

Luke shook his head, "No breakfast. I'm not hungry. But… do tell Leia we're not going to breakfast."

Han nodded, stood up, and left. Luke wrapped himself in his blanket again, snuggling up against the wall. He didn't know what he was going to tell Han. He only knew that he really did need to talk about it, as Han had said. Maybe it would make most sense to tell Han the whole truth. If he did, Han could help him work through telling Leia, and even if it still went terribly wrong, maybe it would bring Han to believe that Luke needed him much more than Leia did. And if Han couldn't accept Vader's son, at least Luke would know. At least he would_ know_ he hadn't just been being paranoid. At least he would know that he had been honest.

He would. He would tell Han everything. He would leave nothing out. He didn't want to hide from his friends as well as his enemies.

The door opened again, and Luke made a mental note to repair the lock and activating mechanism as Han dropped the wires he'd crossed to force it open. His friend seemed to have made at least a short trip down to the cafeteria, because he was holding a juice box, which he passed to Luke.

"You need something, Kid," Han told him, and Luke obediently opened the juice and began drinking.

When the juice was finished, Luke put it down beside himself, and Han immediately picked it back up and tossed it into the garbage. Luke looked up at his friend, and began fidgeting with the edge of his blanket.

"Now, you gonna tell me what you were crying about?" Han asked.

Luke stuttered out something that wasn't a word. He didn't know what to do. He'd decided to tell Han everything, but had planned no further than that. He had no idea where to start. Leia would have been able to do this easily, he thought, she would have edged into the topic so gently that it probably wouldn't have even struck Han as remotely upsetting. But Luke was no senator. He had no idea how to make his troubles sound like anything less than they were.

He bit his lip, and then simply blurted out the truth, "Vader is my father."

Han's mouth fell open, and it would have been comical if Luke hadn't been so upset, "Vader's your _dad_?" Han asked incredulously.

Luke nodded glumly, "If you don't want to be my friend anymore, I understand."

Han looked at Luke's miserable face for a moment before gently bumping his chin up, making Luke smile as it always did, "I don't care."

"But-," Luke protested, "Someone pure shouldn't want to be friends with someone tainted. Like me."

Han laughed, "Did you just call me pure, and say that you're not?" he kept laughing, and Luke smiled nervously, "Kid, you're the purest person alive. Don't worry about it. I wouldn't care if the Emperor himself was your dad. You're my friend, and that's what's important to me."

Luke felt obliged to hug his friend again, so he did, "I don't tell you enough, Han, but you're a great friend."

Han smiled, and Luke's stomach stopped swimming, "You too."

Luke pulled his blanket tighter around himself again, "Now I just have to tell Leia."

"Oof," Han said, and Luke was glad that he had made no effort to hide the fact that admitting his parentage to Leia would be a miracle and a half if it went well, "That's gonna be tough."

"This was pretty hard too," Luke admitted, not adding that it would probably be at least three or four times harder to tell Leia.

"I'll come with you," Han said, standing up.

"Now?" Luke asked, alarmed.

"As long as you've already managed to tell me, I bet now's the best time."

Luke looked around his room for an excuse, or maybe some precious possession to take with him when Leia threw him out. Finding nothing, he stood as well, "I guess you're right."

Han directed Luke to walk directly in front of him, and Luke did so. He supposed it was Han's way of making sure that Luke didn't turn around and go back to his room. He took comfort in the other's closeness, and the fact that he would be there for Luke even if everything went disastrously wrong.

Han directed Luke to Leia's quarters, which Luke had never before entered, opting to knock at the door and wait for her to come out, but which, he found upon entering, were almost exactly as his own. Her shelf had a number of extra books on it, but otherwise, it was identical. Leia herself sat on her bed cleaning her blaster.

As they entered, Leia looked up, and smiled at Luke, "Do you feel better?" she asked kindly, and Luke felt his hands start to shake. He hurriedly stuffed them into his pockets so she wouldn't see. Slowly, he shook his head.

"Kid's got something to tell you," Han said bluntly.

Leia stood, and put a hand on Luke's shoulder comfortingly, "What is it?"

Feeling the pressure of her hand on his shoulder, Luke's mind took the easiest way out again, and he once more blurted his darkest secret, "Vader is my father."

Leia looked startled for a fraction of a moment before her face rearranged itself into the face Luke associated with the side of her that was still the perfect senator, even without a senate, "I don't hate you."

Luke blustered on, "I know how much you hate him, and I know you'll probably hate me too. And you definitely don't need to celebrate my birthday anymore."

She smiled then, and Luke felt his stomach turn over. Then she leaned forward and gently kissed his cheek, "Focus," she told him, "It's all right. I don't hate you. This war has stolen from all of us, and I won't let it come between us."

"You mean, you only hate Vader because of the war?" Luke asked hopefully. Maybe she would even consent to help him try to turn Vader back to the Light!

Leia frowned slightly, "He is also a terrible person," she answered, "But I know you better than I know him, and no matter how little I like your father, I trust you. You're not like him."

Luke smiled. He should have known better. Of course his friends would stay by his side, it was simply what they'd always done, no matter what problem, trivial or cosmic, had attempted to come between them. He hugged Leia as well, and then, out of pure relief, sank onto her bed. He felt tears come to his eyes, and his lower lip shaking, and Han knelt down in front of him and hugged him tightly. A moment later, he felt Leia's arms around him as well.

"I'm sorry," he said, "I'm sorry I doubted you."

Neither of his friends answered him, but he didn't need their answer. He could sense it in how they treated him, and he simply sat still, enjoying their attention. He'd let himself forget how lucky he was, forgetting his friends, and focusing only on Vader, and how unlucky he'd been with his father.

"You don't choose your family, Luke," Leia said gently, and Luke smiled.

"I did. I chose you guys."


End file.
